Thinking Corner
Elisa Name: 'Elisa (Meaning: God's Promise) '''Age: ' Physically 15; Immortal (Biologically, about 500 years old) '''Species: Moon Nymph Creator: 'Pandia '''Appearance/Model: ' Maria Amanda '''Personality: WIP History: 'All fairy tales were made to teach a moral, a lesson. They gave happily ever afters to bring hope to children. They created villains to bring purpose to the heroes. They bring in mythical creatures to show that there will always be a helping hand. But of course, not ''every fairy tale ends in happily ever after. Not every ''villain can be defeated, nor every hero, successful. But the one thing fairy tales all have in common? They all began with ''"Once upon a time". '''/\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\/ 600 years ago.... (~1413) /\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\/ For centuries, Pandia had watched over her children with a mixture of pride and worry, joy and fear. She cared for their safety, knowing that, unless they were told of their parentage, monsters would attack them less, thanks to her being a minor goddess. But that did not satisfy the restlessness in her heart. Her children would never be safe, simply because she was a goddess. Pandia had seen far too often what has happened to the children of many minor gods who were not given recognition. They turned their backs to the gods of Olympus, plotting instead to bring the gods down. She began to fear that, when her children discovered her identity and theirs, they would begin to take the wrong paths, be swayed by the worst of influences, and make terrible decisions. With her children in mind, Pandia decided to create a handmaiden who would watch over her children; one who would guide them when she could not. So, on the night of the second full moon, approximately 600 years ago, the goddess traveled to Greece, to the peak of the original Mt. Olympus. There, she took the moonlight which fell upon the mountaintop, weaved it into the shape of a person, and blew on it to give it life. That was how Elisa came to be. //\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\ 400 years later... (~1813) //\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\ In her 4 centuries of existence, Elisa had not failed in her task. It had never been too difficult, seeing as the moon goddess very rarely sired demigod children. Pandia often had righteous kids, most did not require much of the moon nymph's guidance. Many times, Elisa had helped mortals and the occasional demigod, but mostly travelers, in exchange for a few hours in their company. None of the mortals thought the nymph was out of the ordinary, seeing as Elisa often disguised herself as one of the villagers in which ever town or country she was currently in. The mortals told Elisa of stories, many about the places the nymph had never been to; stories of riches and folklore, of love, pain and sacrifice. The story Elisa loved the most was that which an old wanderer had told her long ago. She had helped the man find his way in the woods and, in exchange, the wanderer told her a small story, one about the Love of the Fairy Queen, Titania. And so, the wanderer's story goes... ~o~o~O~o~o~ Titania was a mere girl, no older than fifteen, who came from a village in the west. Her beauty far surpassed others. She was loved by many, adored by all. She had a heart of gold and cared for even the smallest of beings. Her kind nature attracted the attention of the Fairies of Flame, powerful beings who lived in the Scarlet Forest, a place where it seemed to be forever Autumn, a place where fire trees grew in bundles and where animals could find shelter. One tragic night, bandits had attacked Titania's village, razing houses to the ground, stealing all that they could... and killing all who stood in their way. Many of the villagers fled, some stayed to fight while others were trapped, captured by the bandits. Titania, who had tried to protect a younger villager from the Bandits, was slain on that night; her death, a warning to the remaining villagers who tried to fight. The bandits were ruthless and cared little for human life. The villagers surrendered. Titania's death had taken it's toll on them. The bandits took everything, everyone, and left the village. The dead were not given proper burials. Instead, they remained where they had fallen. Two days after the bandits had left the village, the Fairies of Flames appeared. From the Forest, they appeared, one by one, floating over the village like guardians. They brought light to the village, giving eternal rest to those who had fallen. Men, women, and children were finally given peace. At last, the Fairies came to Titania's fallen body. Using their power, they brought it to the heart of the Scarlet Forest, where it was laid on the softest patch of grass and where the moon's rays were at it's greatest. And then, one by one, the fairies began their mystical dance. From afar, it would seem like a myriad of fireflies were floating over the body, warming it with their light. Soft music from the heavens began playing, accompanying the fairies in their dance. The moonlight seemed to bend, encasing Titania's body in pale moonlight, giving the girl an unearthly shimmer. It is said, that every three hundred years, the Fairies choose a human, one of good faith and heart, to be their leader. And on the night of the Festival of Life, it is believed that they crown their Queen. On the night of the Life Festival, the Fairies of Flames had crowned Titania as their Queen. Through their dance and the moonlight, they gave her life. Through the heaven's music, she was given the role of Fairy Leader. From that night onwards, she was known as Titania, the great Queen of the Fairies. In the years to follow, under Titania's guidance, the Scarlet Forest blossomed. It became a home to many creatures, animals and sprites and fairies, alike. Darkness never settled. The Forest became a safe haven for myriads of creatures. Titania had found a family amongst all those mythical beings... but she was never truly happy. An empty feeling in her heart remained, as though she were incomplete. Years after Titania had been crowned Queen, a wounded human male was brought to her by one of the deer. The male was the first human Titania had seen in a long time. He had been climbing one of the sycamore trees when a swarm of bees startled him and he fell, or so the deer says. Titania, being a woman of good heart, told the deer to bring the man to her home. It was against the wishes of most elder fairies but Titania insisted that all who were wounded must be tended to. Titania went beside herself to make sure that the young man was comfortable. She herself nursed the young man back to health. It took a while, but soon enough, the young man was well. All that was needed was for him to wake up. Titania sat patiently beside his bed, every day, waiting for him to wake... and when he did, she was immediately captivated by his eyes. They were the most beautiful pair of cerulean blue that she had ever seen. When the boy asked where he was, Titania grew wary, unsure of whether to answer him or not. In the end, she told him. She gave him her name as well. The man, Lucas, said nothing else but surveyed the room... and the woman in it. It was said that the man, Lucas, fell in love with the Fairy Queen. Her beauty surpassing others; her kindness, comparable to no one else. But the two were worlds apart. One was a human, the other, the Fairy Queen. They simply could not be... and yet, they tried. Titania would watch Lucas when she could. Lucas would wander though the forest, in search of Titania... but they didn't meet. It wasn't until the night of the full moon, in spring, that they met again. According to legend, it was under the pale moonlight, in an unknown meadow, when Lucas had found Titania, giving a tribute to the moon through dance. Her gracefulness could entrance anyone; her voice had the power to make anyone forget their worries. But it was not magic that made Lucas step out into the meadow. It was Titania herself. It was in that meadow, under the watch of the full moon, that the two shared their first kiss and pronounced their love for each other. Of course, word spread throughout the Scarlet Forest that the Queen had found herself a suitor... a human suitor. It did not bode well, at first, with the elder fairies, but as time passed, they grew to accept that the human male... completed Titania. Even the elders admitted that never before had they seen their Queen so happy. Time passed by and the Elders had come to a decision. They would grant the human the powers of a fairy. '' ''And so, on the night of the full moon the following month, they gave Lucas a new life; the life of a male fairy. On the night of the new moon in the same month, he was crowned as King, so as to rule beside Titania. All lived in peace and happiness. All was well. '' '~o~o~O~o~o~''' "You remind me of her, you know," the wanderer had said. Back then, Elisa had been flattered, of course. To be compared to the Fairy Queen Titania was like being compared to Aphrodite, the goddess of love or to Artemis, the great leader of the hunt. It was an honor for a simple moon nymph like her. Elisa tried to wave it off though. "I'm nothing like her. She's far better than I," Elisa had said. The elder man only chuckled as her rose from his make shift chair on a fallen tree trunk, leaning on his wooden walking stick. "A young lady who helps those in need... I think the title of Titania would fit you perfectly," the old man said, honesty seeping through his words. The man turned to Elisa who had remained seated on the forest floor. "I think I best take my leave. Night has fallen on us. You should return to you family too." Elisa, who had never had a family, grimaced but hid it behind a well practiced smile. "Will we ever meet again?" The traveler could only smile. "Perhaps... if Fate is kind to us." He raised a hand in goodbye. "Farewell, Titania Elisa." ~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~ 30 years later... (~1843) ~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~ Elisa's duty to Pandia's children had brought her to many places in all her time of servitude. Portland. Mexico. Greece. Spain. Greenland. Taiwan. Rome. Japan. She had gone from continent to continent, city to city, all while watching over Pandia's children with great care. In almost every place she went to, Elisa stuck close to the forests or to less populated areas, only ever going to the populated cities when she felt that she had to. It was in August of 1893 when Elisa had drifted to Europe again after having followed 14-year-old demigod daughter of Pandia. This demigod, named Mae by her mortal father, was an innocent and obedient child. Elisa knew that, once again, all she had to do was watch. Mae and her family had chosen to live close to the Montagne de la Victoire (Mount Victory), better known today as Montagne Sainte-Victoire. Mae and her father lived only two hours away from the mountain on horseback, a fact which Elisa had been silently grateful for. For years, everything was as it should be. Silent. Peaceful. Mae grew up up to adulthood, just like many before her. Elisa had retreated to the Montagne de la Victoire, planning on making it her home for next few years until a new demigod came to light. Provence proved to be a wonderful place. Elisa posed as a distant relative of one of the elderly villagers. She learned to speak, read and write French, under the guidance of a clear-sighted, elderly woman named Ophelia, who easily saw through Elisa's disguise. She learned how catch fish using mortal means and tend to the injured. She learned to get along with others of the same age as her... or the same age as she looked like anyways. In that small part of Provence, Elisa learned first-hand how it was to be normal.... ...And there, in that small neighborhood of Provence, France was where Elisa had tasted the bittersweet whispers of love. ~~^v^v^v^v^v^v^~~ The de la Fontaine family, consisting of the head, Eric, the eldest son, Stephan, the second son, Nathaniel, and the only daughter, Dior, had once been a proud and wealthy family. They were respected members of society until one day, they just upped and left. Many said their sudden departure was because the Lady de la Fontaine, Maria, had fallen ill and asked to leave the city and return to her hometown of Goult, Provence. The Lady, however, passed only a few days after arriving in Provence. With grief in their hearts, the small family decided to stay in the province, as a tribute to Maria de la Fontaine. In Goult, Provence, the family began from scratch. Using what little money they retrieved from the city, they bought a house along with a field. Everyday, Eric, along with Stephan, would plow and attend to the field while Nathaniel and Dior were tasked with the housework. Their neighbors, a youthful couple, often stopped by to help with the housework, seeing as two children alone could not do it by themselves. Over the course of the year, Stephan managed to catch the attention of numerous females of his age while Nathaniel was all but invisible, having been forced to stay inside to help his younger sister. Weapons: 'Moon Nymph Powers '''Notes: ' *The legend of Titania will be hidden via collapsibles. *'''Editing the pic/s: Go on picmonkey, click the P sign when chu loaded your photo, select a font, click add text, pick the color, size, write the text and such. *In the model name: add in a link to Maria Amanda's fan page. *In coding, use version 6. Madeleine Scath Name: Madeleine Scath Age: 15 God Parent: Themis, Nike, Harmonia Mortal Parent: Anthony Scath Appearance: WIP Personality: Madeleine acts far too mature than is fitting for her age. She likes being in control of certain situations. Madeleine may seem....uptight, to the point where her formalness seems rude. She can make friends but prefers not to let anyone get too close. WIP History: ' Updated: 08/25/13; 12:33 PM Prologue= ''History tends to repeat itself, time and time again. It encompasses every man, reawakens long buried emotions and rekindles the flame of excitement and mystery. Many people have tried to do what I am doing right now --- writing themselves into history; leaving behind a record, concrete proof, that they had once walked off the face of this planet we all call home. No, do not confuse this with a journal. I have no intention of revealing to you what I had for breakfast in the past week nor what it is I dream of at night. What you will find here is nothing more than a record, my own account of the life I once led... a life now forever changed. Every story, every plot twist, those unexpected turn of events and sad endings began in the same way: '' "Once upon a time..."'' But this is not a fairy tale where in I get a princess' happily ever after and ride into the sunset with my prince charming. No, this is fact. I am real, therefore, my life's "story" is real... so I will begin differently. "A stormy night in the simple streets of Florence..." That single night is my father's most fondest and cherished memory. It is a night which he often said he would never forget, even after he has passed on to what I used to believe as "Heaven". It was on that stormy night when my parents met. |-| Chapter I= My father, Anthony Scath, was nothing more than a regular mortal, no special powers nor any hint of having clear sight. He was plain... yet somehow, he was extraordinary. My father had everything he wanted at the time. He had good looks (if I may say so), he had wonderful parents and supportive colleagues. He had the brains and the courage to take on high paying and prestigious professions... and yet, for reasons unbeknownst to me, he chose to work as a lawyer in an unknown law firm in Florence. He often told me that Fate tends to mess with your life and your decisions every once and a while. I guess he never knew how right he was... Years of working in a law firm had taught my father to analyze personalities efficiently, to search for even the slightest hint of a lie. My father was a just man and accepted only those who were truly innocent and those who were wrongly accused. In a world where deceit and lies reign, finding someone who is still true to his word and upholds righteousness, justice, honesty and integrity is quite rare... so perhaps that is why my mother chose him, why it was my father whom she became attracted to. My father, or Papa as I would always call him when we were alone, often described my mother as nothing short on beautiful and amazing. He met her when they were both trying to look for shelter from the sudden onslaught of the rain. Both took refuge underneath the shade of a small cafe, dripping wet but safe for the moment. Despite being drenched by the cold rain, Papa said that my mother seemed as cheerful as though it were a bright day in Spring. Her smile and warm eyes enticed him and, as they both waited for the rain to clear, they began exchanging stories. Papa always joked around, saying that it was so awkward he could hear the crickets singing but as soon as my mother began filling in the painful silence between them, he knew he wouldn't leave until the woman before him did. In a matter of hours, my parents had shared dozens of stories, exchanged millions of words and gone through each other's adventures. Papa always said that he couldn't believe he sat in that cafe for only three hours. To him, it felt like he'd been there for days and he joked that he could have spent eternity sitting in that cafe, merely talking with my mother. But, as life moves on and time turns, all good things must come to an end. The harsh rain which brought them together soon dissipated, allowing those who were forced to take temporary refuge to return to their homes in peace. My mother stood up from her seat, announcing that she had better head home. Papa did the same not long afterward. However, neither of them moved from their spot. They just stared at each other, waiting for the other to make a move first. Finally my mother plucked off Papa's pen, which he kept on his shirt pocket and bent over the table, hastily writing something on an unused tissue. Papa was tempted to take a peek but didn't get the chance as my mother soon stood up straight and returned Papa's pen to him. With a smile, she handed him the tissue, stating that if he ever wanted to meet up again, he could contact her at the number which she had written down. Papa took the tissue silently and watched as she walked out of the cafe, turning back once to wave at him, and continuing on into the night. ---- ---- Had my father been the one telling you this, he'd have that far-away look in his eyes again and a bittersweet smile would grace his lips. He would stop speaking and his face would get clouded, as though he were re-visiting the memory in his mind. Many times, when I was a kid, I'd have to snap my fingers in front of his face just to get him to continue on. He'd smile down at me, an amused air about him. He'd often say "My, aren't you curious as to what your Papa does after. But no matter, anything for my little princess...." He'd give me a light poke on the stomach, making sure I laughed first, before continuing. ---- ---- The moment he got home, he considered giving her a call but decided against it as it was well past midnight when he returned. Days soon passed after the little cafe scene and my Papa had yet to call the woman he met, whose name he later learned was Elora. His work demanded his full attention yet he always kept that piece of tissue near him, whether it was inside his shirt pocket or tucked away safely in the pocket of his pants. He never went anywhere without it, fearing that he'd lose it or one of his assistants would accidentally throw it, thinking it was nothing more than a piece of tissue. ---- ---- I often asked my Papa why he didn't just copy the number onto a much better material, like paper or directly place it into his phone. Papa would just grin at me and say "Why, that's completely different, my little princess. You see, if I transferred the number to a different kind of paper and carry around ''that piece of paper... then it wouldn't be the same feeling as carrying around the tissue!" '' I never truly understood what he was saying but now I do. Papa was talking about the tissue's sentimental value. He kept the small, unimportant material simply because it was something my mother had held and given to him. The number may have already faded but he held on to it... simply because it reminded him of her. ---- ---- Weeks after, Papa had won yet another case, seemingly with more ease than in his previous cases. That same night, Papa had finally decided to call Elora, thinking that, if she had already forgotten him, he'll do the same and move on. To his great surprise however, she did remember him. Feeling a joy he could not explain, Papa asked her if she wanted to meet up, get to know each other more. Elora agreed without hesitation and the two of them made an agreement to see each other at the cafe where they met. ---- ---- Papa never did tell me what happened on their little get together but I'm more than sure it went well. He told me that they kept seeing each other every Tuesday and Saturday over the course of the next three months. No matter how hard I asked him to tell me what happened on their little 'outings' though, Papa never told me anything other than how mother seemed to get even more beautiful every time he saw her. '' ''I must admit, six year old me was rather disgusted at how Papa was. He would talk about mom with such sappiness and... mushiness that it made my six year old self want to run to the bathroom and puke. Thinking on it now though, my father was just a regular guy; someone who had fallen in love... and stayed in love. ---- ---- By the time five months passed, Papa had a stable relationship with my mother. He had introduced her to his parents and she was greatly welcomed by the couple. For some odd reason though, Papa couldn't remember anything specific about meeting mother's family despite being certain that he had, indeed, met her side of the family. He pushed the odd feeling to the back of his mind though, and simply focused on the present. ---- ---- Two more months passed by, according to Papa, although he told me what happened in those two months was strictly between him and my mother. I dared not ask, not wanting to anger my father with my persistent pestering. He promised me long ago that he'd tell me, one day, what happened in those two months... but I don't think that's quite necessary now. After all, it's quite obvious to me now what they did. ---- ---- Three more months passed. On their ten-month anniversary, my mother announced to Papa that she had to leave, her job requiring her to leave the country. Struck with grief, Papa tried to persuade her to let him come along but mother adamantly refused, saying that his family needed him and that he couldn't just suddenly get up and leave them. After a few more days, Papa relented, knowing that he had to do the right thing and let her go. He spent as much time as he could with Elora but the time came when she had to leave. It was just like that night ten months ago. Papa was rooted to his spot, watching as the woman who made an impact in his world stride towards the gate, stop for a moment to wave goodbye at him, before continuing on to her plane. Papa didn't stay to watch the plane take-off. Losing the person you love was one thing... letting her go was another. ---- ---- Thinking on it now, I'm amazed at how Papa never resented mom. They stayed in contact the first few days but little by little, their talking got less and less until one day, they all but lost contact. It was as though my mother had suddenly dropped off the face of the planet. She never called and never answered his emails and texts. She did not even tell Papa where she was going anymore, her "job" requiring her to move so many times. She had practically forgotten about Papa... and yet, my father still loved her, even until his last moments. He thought of her every day, visited the places they went to, recounted the days when they'd just sit down at the cafe and talk. Papa waited for her to visit at least once... but she never did. By the time six months had passed, he had completely given up hope that 'Elora' would come back. He tried his best to forget about her... but it's not easy erasing a loved one from your memory, no matter how much they hurt you. He tried getting into other girls, he even went on a date once or twice... but it was to no avail. His heart would belong to my mother and to her alone. ---- ---- Papa got into his work again. He took on numerous cases; burying himself in his work in order to forget about mom. After three months, he finally moved on. He worked hard, earned himself enough money to provide for both himself and his parents, though grandfather and grandmother would always refuse his help, saying that "they may be old but they still got it in them". Papa would always just shrug it off. He believed that his life was finally back on track. That is, until I came along. |-| Chapter II= ~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~ Most parents are never ready for parenthood despite all the precautions and steps they take. I do not believe parenthood is something which one can prepare for. You can only learn to cope, as many living forms cope with changes in their surroundings. My Papa was one of those who coped easily. Papa never really understood how I got to his doorstep, only that he had found me, blessedly asleep, lying inside a basket with a blue envelope beside me. He had asked his neighbors on whether they had seen who it was that left me on his doorstep, but all of them stated that they did not. My Papa had his suspicions on who had left me at his door. He did not want to believe it at first but my uncanny resemblance to him could not be overlooked. Without knowing what to do, Papa simply took me inside, sat on the couch in the living room and placed his head in his hands. Papa told me long ago that had I not stirred in my sleep, he would have stayed in his position for a long time. The sound of movement brought his attention to me and, inevitably, to the letter which came along with me. ---- ---- The contents of that letter were never shared to me. Papa had always said that it was not meant for my eyes and that what was inside it would not have benefited me in any way. As a child, I guessed that the letter was related to me. To this day, I know not what was written in that single piece of stationery. I presume it is currently with my grandparents back in Florence, safely stored away in a chest along with other possessions which my Papa had cherished. '' ---- ---- News about me spread like wildfire throughout the entire neighborhood and Papa soon became the subject of gossips. Rumors began spreading and Papa’s reputation began to slowly decline. Word soon got to my grandfather and grandmother, causing them to drive over to Papa’s house and hear the full story from him regarding the matter. Papa tried his best to explain everything but he himself was confused. After all, how could a woman who was miles away deliver a baby to his doorstep? It was simply illogical to Papa. Despite this though, he cared for me, ignoring the rumors that, undoubtedly, reached his ears. |-| Chapter III= ''~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~ I grew up quite peacefully. Papa told me that I was never a burden to him nor to my grandparents, even as a baby. I rarely cried and seldom did I wake him in the middle of the night with my needs. My grandparents came on the weekdays to care for me while Papa went off to work. It was only on Saturdays and Sundays when Papa and I actually bonded. It was on those weekends when Papa would pull me on his lap and tell me stories about his parents, his life during his childhood and his many adventures. Some were made up, others were a hundred percent real. But the ones he told me the most were the stories about my mother. ---- ---- I guess Papa saw it fit to tell me stories about mom so that I didn’t feel so different from other kids my age. He must have thought that living without any knowledge on my mother was hard on me. I presume, since he’s had many cases involving children, he thought I'd react the same as them. I know I should have... but oddly enough, I didn't. It was as if, somehow, I knew that my mother didn't want to leave. But looking at where I am now, I'm beginning to doubt it. ---- ---- When I turned 3, Papa enrolled me in a small preschool near my house, after much persuasion from the school's principal. I guess she saw me and Papa on one of our weekend bonding moments and decided to talk to him. The administration accepted me with open arms. They told me that just because I did not have a mother with me, that did not imply that I should not have a good education. I must admit, I quite enjoyed my three years in the preschool. Back then, no one judged me. I graduated from preschool with flying colors, bringing pride to Papa and my grandparents. At the age of 6, Papa enrolled me in one of the best private schools in Florence, saying he wanted "only the best elementary and secondary education Florence can give" for his daughter. It was only a couple of blocks away from the house, which made it convenient. At first, Papa tried homeschooling me but it backfired on him. Next, he tried asking my grandparents but that, too, didn't work. He even asked my preschool teachers if they could teach me but it seemed they had their hands full. So he contacted the principal of the school, who happened to be an old colleague of his. The school accepted me without any hesitation. The first three years of elementary school were actually.... boring. Everyone avoided me and I avoided them. You could say I was a loner, relying only on my self whenever I was at school. People didn't want to involve themselves with the weirdo, the girl who had no mother. So I kept to myself. I wasn't bullied. People just left me alone. I spent most of my time in the school library. One tends to surround one's self with stories that can take her to a different world when she has nothing to do. My Papa learned about my fondness for reading and soon bought me an entire shelf of books of varied genres. It was quite amusing to see him try and hide the gift from me. I was 8 and in third grade by this time. Later in the school year, just before Easter, I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder, or ADHD for short. It was rather easy to hide at first but as the weeks came and went, it became harder to hide it. My classmates began to notice around the first week of May but they simply ignored it, thinking it was me just being weird again. After all, with summer close by, they just wrote it off as excitement. In fifth grade, after approximately four months into the school year, I began having trouble reading. Papa took me to the doctor and I was diagnosed with Dyslexia. This became a huge problem for me. I loved to read but my dyslexia prevented me from being able to understand even the most simplest of sentences. My Papa told the principal of the school regarding my condition and she said she would do whatever she could. I guess the entire staff was told about it because nearly all of my teachers never called me to read texts and they gave me private lessons either after school hours, during free periods or during weekends. During the weekend sessions, Papa would be with us and he'd try his best to help. Sadly, he could not keep up with the ways of a teacher. I was able to catch up with the rest of the class. During exams, I wore specially designed colored glasses which helped me understand and concentrate on the words. I'm not fond of using them though so I only ever bring it out during written exams. The help it gives me is quite limited as well. I still have it actually but I only use it in private, mostly when I feel like reading. I excelled more on oral and practical exams, due to my conditions. Papa told me that perhaps, when I grew up, I would become a lawyer like him. My oral skills were, according to both him and my teachers, impeccable and I could convince anyone if I tried hard enough. I shot the idea down almost immediately, however, since I knew that, if I did enter into law, I'd need to memorize quite a number of papers and my dyslexia simply would not allow it, even with the help of my glasses. My classmates soon found out about my private lessons and rumors began to spread yet again. Everywhere I went in school, I heard whispers about myself; how my father bribed the administration or how I used "witch craft and trickery" to convince my teachers to give me good grades. I did not try denying it simply because I knew they would not listen. I had no friend to defend me so I did not bother. I tried shrugging off the rumors since they were just that, rumors; assumptions based on loose information. ---- ---- If you were wondering, no, my teachers said nothing on the matter despite the fact that they knew the truth about my condition. Had they told their students the truth, it would only have made matters worse. I've heard of kids being bullied just because of being ADHD or dyslexic... what more if it were both? I guess it was their way of protecting me. And yet... Fate seemed to have been against me at the time, no matter what I did. Word got to the principal and soon, to my Papa. Perhaps he expected this to happen so he had me pulled out of school in the next week. I did not, I repeat, did not drop out of school. My teachers still came after classes and on Saturdays. It must have been an agreement made between the school principal and Papa. I didn't question it. I knew it was all for me anyways. ---- ---- You could say for the next six months, I was "home schooled". By the end of the first two weeks, my father and I knew the entire teaching personnel of the school. My old principal came to check up on my progress every now and then. Astonishingly, I was doing far better than most of the people in school. This continued on until the school year ended. The same thing happened the following year. I was home schooled yet again by some old teachers and some new ones. The school made it so that I was only required to attend classes thrice a week, mainly for exam preparation purposes, Physical Education, Home Economics, Music class, Speech class and one extra-curricular activity. This agreement worked well for me even after I 'graduated' from 6th grade. The summer after I turned thirteen, Papa and I made an agreement; I would attempt to attend all of my classes, five times a week. So as seventh grade rolled in, I prepared myself mentally. Surprisingly, no one criticized me. At first I got surprised looks, both from the student body and the staff but I soon got used to it. Those in my class joked a bit about my glasses but it was more of a light teasing. It was as though I was the new girl, a transferee whom everyone had to be nice to in order to get a good first impression. At first, I was hesitant, having interacted very little in my time at the school. It was as though, to me, everyone was far too nice; fake, if you will. I grew suspicious of my classmates but, soon enough, I warmed up to them, and they to me. As days went by, I managed to make friends and generally be... sociable. After the first two months in school, I felt as though I belonged. No more rumors based on false assumptions were spreading and I was accepted into an environment that was not primarily my home. I was happy. ---- ---- Seventh grade was memorable to me. It was the year I came out of my small cocoon, my self created prison, and made friends. It was the year people began noticing me, the year I began to have more confidence. People began opening up to me, began treating me like a normal 13-year-old girl. People asked for my opinion quite a lot, namely because they said I was a fair person and wouldn't let perdonal reasons interfere with my judgements. I'm more than sure I made my Papa proud of my development. Seventh grade was the year I began to truly enjoy life. It was a year that I would never forget. It was a year that I cherished... and yet, it was the year when things started to go wrong. |-| Chapter IV= ~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~ Everything was fine. I became your average 13-year-old. I woke up, ate breakfast, went to school, learned, hanged out with a couple of friends and went home for night. It was a daily routine... a routine disturbed by what Papa and therapists assumed as "hallucinations" and "figments of my imagination". These strange things began on the night of my 13th birthday when, in the solitude of my room, a glowing, blue, holographic image of balance scales appeared on the top of my head. I disregarded it the next morning as nothing more than a dream. After the first two months of seventh grade, Papa granted me some independence. He allowed me to walk to and from school, seeing as it was only a couple of blocks away from our home. Half the reason for this was because he said walking was good for my health and the other half was because Papa became busy with his work, no longer being able to pick me up as soon as school ended. Neither he nor I wanted to bother my grandparents with something as petty as picking me up from school, so I walked home. It was on those walks home when I had believed I was going crazy. I would always hear the clip clop of what sounded like hooves or sometimes the clinking of tin against tin. I would smell Lanolin (the smell which usually came from wool) as I changed streets and often, I'd hear puffs of breath, as though whoever --or whatever-- was following me had a hard time keeping up. Numerous times I tried to see who it was that was following me but with the number of people on the streets, it was hard to tell. Once, I saw a young man, about a year or two older than me, holding what seemed to be a golden sword, running down the street, being chased down by what I had originally thought as two gigantic eagles. It seemed odd to me, at that time, how everyone turned their heads in the direction of the young man but no one seemed to notice the eagles. I told Papa about this but he assured me that it was just my imagination. I told my friends about it and they said it was merely a dream. Although, one person, this strange petite female in the same batch as me, whispered to me once that "not everything was as it seemed". I disregarded her warning, thinking it was nothing more than a small prank. Practically everyone said the same thing about these strange occurrences I went through: "They're just dreams", "It was your imagination", "Nothing more than a trick of the light". But I knew I wasn't dreaming, that it was not simply just my imagination at work. All those things I had seen, the young man with the sword, the eagles, the smell of a barnyard animal, all those... were real. I was beginning to believe what that strange girl whispered to me. Like most demigods, I had sighted quite a few monsters before one actually attacked me. I had just recently turned fourteen when it happened. It was one of those rare times when Papa was busy, even on the weekends. Ever since I began attending my classes, I no longer had private lessons (unless I requested for them). I grew bored of being stuck inside my room with absolutely nothing to do. I was not fond of using gadgets, so I rarely used the laptop Papa gave me as a birthday gift. I decided to simply go for a walk. I left a note on the door, stating what I was doing and that I would be back before dinner. One thing a teenager, a female at that, should know: never walk around aimlessly when you're alone; it brings you to places you have never been familiar with. That was one thing Papa told me when I first began walking to and from school. It seemed to be the one important reminder which I had conveniently forgotten at the worst of times. My aimless wandering had brought me to a small, run-down part of Florence. No building was familiar and the place itself seemed close to being abandoned. Not a single person was in sight. I remember heading north, so I must have been at one of the unpopulated areas of Florence. I backtracked but this only proved to get me even more lost. I knew night was fast approaching and, should I fail to be home before dinner, Papa would be very worried and might go so far as to call the police. As I tried to navigate my way home, I could vaguely hear the sound of scuttling. I quickened my pace, feeling that sense of being followed. I picked up the sound of snipping as well, as though someone had a pair of shears and was playing with them, only the sound seemed to be magnified. I quickened my pace, a gut feeling telling me that I did not want to meet whatever was making those sounds. Unfortunately for me, I had focused more on getting away from the sounds and not at where I was going. Before I knew it, I was at what seemed like a construction site. I had done nothing more than getting myself lost, confused and frightened. The snipping and scuttling sounded far too close for my liking so I did the best thing I could: I armed myself with whatever I could find, which, at the time, was nothing more than a pipe, the same length as my arm. I waited there, not truly knowing why I didn't just flee like my instincts told me to. After a moment or two, what seemed to be a scorpion appeared in my line of sight. It was almost three times as tall as I was and easily five times as wide. The sight froze me to my spot. A scorpion that gigantic should not - could not ''- have existed, let alone appear in a run-down part of Florence. I could do nothing but watch as it got closer...closer...closer. It was soon ten feet away, it's giant pincers raised in the air. My metal pipe was useless in my hands, seeing as I was practically paralyzed with fear at the time. I watched it bring down it's pincer and waited for the pain to come... and waited... and waited.... I had closed my eyes sometime in the middle of all that and, not long after, I heard numerous ''thwacks and a painful wail, then silence. I kept my eyes closed, still waiting for the pain but it never came. And I don't quite believe the golden dust which rained on me counted as 'painful'. More like an inconvenience. I dropped the metal pipe and took a lot of steps backwards, scanning my surroundings on who had killed that giant scorpion. I counted up to ten, waiting for someone --some''thing''-- to appear. A flash of silver caught my eye and I turned my head in its direction. A woman, a year or two older than I, stood before me. She was wearing a white shirt with a silver jacket over it, silvery camo pants and black combat boots. She had a regal aura around her, as though she were a princess placed in the wrong clothes and living in the wrong era. The woman regarded me silently, watching me with calculating eyes. I dared not move, fearing what the woman could possibly do. Then, to my utter surprise, a small smile appeared on her face. She told me I had nothing to worry about, that she was not an enemy but a friend. I was skeptical at first, but found nothing except the truth in her words. 'Weapon:'WIP Checklist= *Parents meeting *Birth *Early childhood *Monster Sightings *First monster attack *Discovery of lineage/identity *Getting to Camp *Concluding Paragraph |-| Extra Info= *Monster Attack: Giant Scorpion - at most, 2 *Madeleine gets saved by a Huntress of Artemis, a former demigod (char to be used: Lora; Huntress used her tracking skills to find Madeleine) *As Madeleine and the Huntress were heading to Madeleine's house, a rogue empousa picked up Madeleine's lingering scent and followed it to her house where it found Anthony and proceeded to enchant the poor man. *Madeleine, upon returning home, finds her father almost dead, pale and white, drained of most of his blood. The empousa taken care of by the Huntress the minute she saw the monster. *Anthony says a few parting words to Madeleine but inevitably passes. *Madeleine packs quickly while the Huntress phones the police (at Madeleine's request) then scouts the place for further monsters but finds none. No note for Madeleine's grandparents is left. *They (Madeleine and the Hunter) board a plane heading to New York, the Huntress controlling the Mist to make two pieces of paper look like plane tickets. *Upon arriving at New York, they hail a cab (much to the Huntress' distaste) and head off to Camp. Any and all monsters they encounter are easily dispatched by the Huntress. *At the base of the hill however, three hellhounds jumps on them. One is immediately defeated by the huntress but one manages to pin her to the floor while another advances on Madeleine. *The Huntress, while being pinned down, tells Madeleine to use her powers. Madeleine does so, ordering the Hellhound that if it moves, it'll die. In the meantime, the Huntress defeats the hellhound with the aid of her hunting knives. *They arrive at Camp, battered but safe. |-| Quotes= Trust is a fragile thing - difficult to build, easy to break. It cannot be bargained for. Only if it is freely given, it can be expected in return. - Peter Lerangis, The Sword Thief There is no such thing as luck; only fate. |-| GIF Dividers= *http://www.gifszone.com/content/gif/dividers/dividers_178.gif *http://files.myopera.com/ambgusmao/albums/6032962/thumbs/dividers-120.gif_thumb.jpg *http://files.myopera.com/ysabel1905/albums/10997432/thumbs/dividers-1.gif_thumb.jpg ---- Theme Colors *http://www.colourlovers.com/pattern/3553505/Dusk_Dream |-| Others needed= *Model pics *Picture of reading glasses for the dyslexic *Picture of the weapon *Picture of Themis BC Char - Rhys Mazin Possible pic: '''https://fbcdn-sphotos-a-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/429510_506197392748734_1156412660_n.jpg Quotes http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7406027/7/Blackened-Dawn: "The darkness stays in the shadows, always supporting the light. We are the backbone of the world, unseen and forgotten, yet vital and necessary." - Death "The worse enemy is one who has nothing left to lose." http://www.mangareader.net/94-462-1/bleach/chapter-8.html "People are able to hold onto hope since death is that which cannot be seen." Linky :D http://heathersanimations.com/index.html <-- for gifs -.-"